Find Your Adventurous Side in the Colorado Mountains This Winter


Find Your Adventurous Side in the Colorado Mountains This Winter

December 17, 2018

There comes a point when the speed seems natural. Cruising through the open valleys, banking turns and floating through powder, the snowmobile no longer feels like a separate entity but merely an extension. And that’s when things really get fun.

Vail, the largest ski mountain in the U.S., has the kind of invigorating terrain that draws people back year after year, generation after generation. (And the fleet of non-stop groomers helps.) But beyond the ski runs is a whole Rocky Mountain playground for those who want to venture out of bounds. Snowmobiling, cross-country skiing and snowshoeing all have cult followings.

Whether you call them snow gos, snow machines or snowmobiles, the ones available for rent can fit two people — the driver and the hanger-on. There are advantages to both roles, and it’s easy to swap back and forth. 


Nova Guides is the largest touring outfit in the Vail Valley, and in this instance, bigger really is better. Headquartered at Camp Hale just a few miles down the road from the Continental Divide, they have a full-service restaurant in their lodge that dishes out hearty lunchtime fare, warm drinks and ambiance from a two-sided fireplace that is perpetually stoked. Though the point of snowmobiling is, in part, to get out there — really out there — it’s easy enough to hightail it back to the lodge if you need a warm-up drink or if you’re done with the adventure before the rest of your group is. Nova Guides has a secondary base camp on the outskirts of Minturn for shorter excursions, too.

There are a couple of ways to take to the snowfields: by-the-hour rentals for do-it-yourself touring, as well as guided tours with full and half-day options. Guided tours are a good way to get used to the machines, which have a kicky burst of power as soon as you rev them. They also eliminate the need for trail finding, as the guides know exactly where they’re going. And where is that, exactly? Why the top of the Rockies, of course.

“We’ve got 80 miles of trail to choose from,” says Drew Fortner of Nova Guides. “No two tours are alike.”

Guides take the pulse of the group as a whole — who’s gone where before, how fast people want to travel, what they want to see — and then create an itinerary. Camp Hale is a natural starting place, as it’s right out the front door and is a wide-open valley peppered with history. At Vail’s Covered Bridge stands a 10th Mountain Division ski trooper sculpture, replete with M1-Garand semi-automatic rifle, 7’6” skis and white ski suit. During World War II, American soldiers trained at Camp Hale so they could fight the Germans in Italy. They were known as the 10th Mountain Division, and they took the Germans by surprise at Riva Ridge. Though most of the infrastructure that was at Camp Hale is now gone, folks can still cruise by the ammunition bunkers, firing range and the foundations of the barracks. And for those who don’t have much of an interest in history, the endless views and jagged peaks provide some eye candy.

That same valley is an excellent spot for dialing in your snowmobiling technique. Though it’s fairly simple to turn the key, give it gas and make some turns, there is a bit of finesse that comes with experience, especially when you’re dealing with fresh powder. Just as you do on skis or a snowboard, snowmobiles float and swoosh in the powder. Given the size and power of the machines, it seems incongruous that they’d feel so light and airy, but that’s part of the draw. Tours dip up and down over the Rockies, peaking at 12,700 feet above sea level. The wind-scrubbed, open terrain is testament to how harsh the conditions are.

“There are often non-skiers in a group,” Fortner says. “And sometimes, this is the only chance they’ll get to see what it’s like above tree line.” Though the machine certainly does the lion’s share of the work, snowmobiling is more physical than one might expect. Because they respond to conditions, snowmobiles dip and lurch just like your muscles. It’s what makes it more interactive and fun. For those with itty-bitties in the group, or people who are sensitive to the cold, Nova also has snowcat tours, what they call “snow coaches.” Heated, the coaches allow for anyone to tour the highalpine Rockies, though they’re not as exhilarating as the snowmobiles.

Experienced backcountry travelers extol the virtues of the sheer distance the snowmobiles can travel in such a short period of time. From Camp Hale it’s easy to cruise over to Vail Pass or Shrine Pass on a snow go and check out the lay of the land. Mount Elbert and Mount Massive — two of Colorado’s tallest peaks — keep watch over the world. Mount of the Holy Cross, a talisman of sorts for Wild West settlers and adventurers, almost always holds snow in the cross, made by crevasses, on one side. Groups can end up in Red Cliff, a funky town at the end of the Shrine Pass road. Red Cliff doesn’t have any stoplights, but it does have dogs galore, a single liquor store and Mango’s, a multi-story restaurant that specializes in, of all things, fish tacos. And beer, or course. There’s also a rock in the middle of town, which played host to the entire settlement during the mid-1800s. Word of an Indian revolt to the east made its way to Colorado, and the town of Red Cliff ran to the rock, sleeping, eating and drawing water from the river below with a bucket on the end of some rope. The wild Indians never showed up, and eventually the settlers left the rock and went about their business. But the rock is still there, one of countless bits of history scattered throughout the White River National Forest.


Before skiing became a downhill sport, it was transportation. Scooting across miles and miles of snow, both snowshoeing and cross-country skiing are time-honored ways to get exercise and cover some ground. In Norway, there are miles and miles of trails between villages, with little huts along the way that offer spiced wine and lunch, sometimes reindeer. In the U.S., the two activities are more specialized. As such, they require specific trails.

Many golf courses in Eagle County allow both snowshoeing and cross-country skiing during the winter months. Some of them, such as Vail, even cater to them. But inside the county lines there is no better place to fall into the groove than McCoy Park at Beaver Creek.

“Most ski resorts have their Nordic courses down in the valley,” explains Nate Goldberg, Beaver Creek’s director of hiking. “But McCoy Park is at the top of Beaver Creek. With a five-and-a-half-minute chair ride you’re there, and it’s so quiet and beautiful. You’ve got three mountain ranges to look at.”

Other than during the occasional snowshoe race, McCoy Park doesn’t see a lot of action. Located at the top of Strawberry Park Express, you can’t see or hear the interstate that runs through the valley, and there’s not much in the way of human company. It is, for the most part, a solitary activity along the crystalline paths that spiral out from the course’s center. A yurt along the way allows for shelter from inclement weather — or simply a rest stop to reapply sunscreen, stretch the hamstrings and relax. The trees are more sporadic up at the top of the world, and the occasional porcupine can be seen propped in those trees every once in a while. Bark eaters, porcupines are oddly comfortable in the snow, and have called Beaver Creek home for longer than the resort has been around. Foxes, weasels and snowshoe hares can also be seen at McCoy, though they often like to stay out of sight.

For those who have both the time and inclination, a morning, afternoon or full day at the Tennessee Pass Nordic Center is unforgettable. Located at the base of Ski Cooper — the only ski resort in Colorado that is publicly owned, this by the town of Leadville — Tennessee Pass Nordic Center is a secluded network of cross country and snowshoe trails cut into a daddy-pine forest. Loops meet up with other loops, making the breezy 25 kilometers of trails feel like full-on backcountry, albeit with an easy escape. Rated green, blue and black just like downhill runs, folks can choose their own adventure. And anyone who eats, ever, should include a stop at the Tennessee Pass Cookhouse on the itinerary.

It was a picnic table that started it. Nothing special, just a wooden rectangle with benches where cross-country skiers would sit and nosh, taking in the wide-open views of the Sawatch Range across the way. But it got Ty and Roxanne Hall, owners of the Tennessee Pass Nordic Center, thinking about “expanding” the picnic table. And they came up with a gourmand’s yurt.

The Tennessee Pass Cookhouse has long been a local favorite for birthdays, anniversaries, and run-of-the-mill hoopla among friends. It’s the epitome of living large in Colorado: gorgeous views, alpine activity, good food and excellent friends. There’s even the possibility of a little live acoustic music later at the Nordic center.

“Part of it is our location — the view is exceptional,” Roxanne says. “But it’s also the yurt. It wouldn’t be the same if it were a cabin. It’s so quaint, plus we feel really far away.”

The Cookhouse serves dinner seven nights a week and lunch on weekends. Lunch is a la carte and has two seatings. The four-course dinner only has one seating. Both have cult followings.

“It’s scratch cooking,” says John Fulton, head chef at the yurt.

Though the Halls have a snowmobile that can run people out to the yurt, people are encouraged to get there on their own steam. Snowshoes and cross-country skis are the most popular choices, though lucky children have been known to be dragged in their sleds by parents with moxie (and energy) to spare. The most direct route from the base lodge to the yurt — Cooper Loop — is about a mile. There’s a 300-foot elevation gain. As often as not, though, folks opt to cruise around on some of the other trails, such as Larry’s Loop, The Woods or Griz, before sitting down to a cookhouse feast. Remember that law about food eaten while camping always tastes better? It seems to apply under these circumstances, too.

The feta-stuffed buffalo burger is a lunch highlight that will tempt even those who prefer to skip the red meat. At dinner, wild sockeye salmon is grilled on a plank, giving it a lightly smoked flavor. Colorado rack of lamb is roasted to tender succulence, while the elk tenderloin is seared and served with blueberries and sage. Roasted chicken and curried tofu are also on the menu. 

All the food and water used at the yurt is schlepped in by snowmobile. That means the “facilities” are two outhouses, riding high above the snowpack. Sometimes it can be an adventure, dashing out into a snowstorm to use them. But coming back into the yurt afterwards is rather friendly. Heated by an old pot-bellied stove that came from Camp Hale, the cozy space is filled with antique tables and mismatched chairs. If meteors obliterate the world or global warming washes away the continent, that solid stove will remain intact. It keeps the yurt downright balmy even on the coldest of nights. Those in the know usually bring house slippers or booties to wear during mealtime, as heavy winter boots aren’t necessary — or particularly comfortable — inside. 

The trick is not to eat too much for the trek back to the car. Primarily downhill, it’s easy to make it to the base lodge as long as you stay awake and upright. Otherwise, all bets are off. And those who decide to nap in the forest will certainly awaken to a different type of adventure entirely. But hey, at least it’s an adventure. And that’s the stuff memories are made of.

See the Best of Washington D.C. with Tips from Two Experts


See the Best of Washington D.C. with Tips from Two Experts

December 11, 2018

Mexico native Christian Martinez knows more about American history than you do, but then that’s his job. Martinez, who is set to take his citizenship exam this spring, moved to Washington, D.C., in 2005 in pursuit of the American dream. He first worked as bartender, and then a bar manager, but, by 2007 was giving tours of his adopted city. In 2009, he became part-owner of Congressional Tours. It’s this métier, he says, that instilled his passion for this country.

“My work made me American,” Martinez says. “Everyone needs to know their history, and I’ve got a great appreciation for this country because of what I do.” This zest translates into dynamic tours that cultivate an intimate appreciation for America’s capital and surrounding areas.

Guide Bill Wadsworth (Wadsworth Limousine and Tours), agrees. Wadsworth’s tours incorporate his refined knowledge of art and architecture and their influence on America’s history. Wadsworth, a D.C. native, attributes his curiosity about his hometown to a childhood spent playing with his siblings at the Smithsonian, where their mother worked in the natural history building. As an adult, he worked for the Washington Star paper for almost 14 years, which delivered “a great window to the city and its life.”


“The world comes to you when you live in Washington, D.C.,” he says. Wadsworth has been showing D.C. to the world for 25 years now. The challenge with a destination as diverse and significant as D.C. is staying focused. “Most people come without realizing the scale,” says Wadsworth. “There is so much to see here that you could get lost.” Allow for surprises, but don’t overload yourself. So, where to go (beyond the obvious) when in the nation’s capital? Read on.

Christian Martinez’s Must-Sees:

George Washington’s Mount Vernon: The grounds and mansion of George Washington’s farm have been restored
to what they were in 1799, the last year Washington resided there. As soon as you walk through the front gate, you feel it too—you’re back in the 18th century. Watch blacksmiths forge nails in their shop.

Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, VA: With 25 to 35 funerals per day, Arlington might be the world’s busiest cemetery. The final resting place for those who served the United States of America, including the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the cemetery is among the most beautiful properties in the city (as macabre as it sounds). Catch the changing of the honor guard and John F. Kennedy’s gravesite, selected for its superlative view of the entire Washington, D.C., skyline.

Pentagon Memorial: An elegant and simple memorial honors the 184 people who perished when hijacked American Airlines Flight
77 crashed into the Pentagon in the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. “This was such a significant moment in history,” says Martinez. “Youngsters don’t always realize there were four planes kidnapped that day; we tend to remember the twin towers.”

United States Supreme Court: The courtroom is open on a first-come, first-served basis when oral arguments are in session (October until late June/early July). This extraordinary access is not available in many parts of the world, says Martinez. “When you see the actual courtroom and the chairs of the nine justices, you understand justice in a new and different way.”

Bill Wadsworth’s Highlights:

National Gallery of Art: Forget, for a moment, that this building houses one of the greatest art collections in the world, including Ginevra de’ Benci, the only Leonardo da Vinci portrait in North America. “The gallery is one of the most beautiful buildings in the world,” says Wadsworth. It was a gift of Andrew Mellon, Secretary of Treasury during the Great Depression.

Library of Congress: The library was built in 1897 and features “the greatest neoclassical interior in the country,” says Wadsworth. “This building sums up America’s confidence as it moved into the 20th century. There’s little difference between the most beautiful opera houses in Europe and the Library of Congress,” says Wadsworth.


U.S. Capitol: “In addition to acting as an incredible repository for American painting, the Capitol is the very core of our experiment in democracy,” says Wadsworth. Indeed, for almost 200 years, the Senate and the House of Representatives have met here. The top of the Capitol is the second-largest cast-iron dome in the world.

Washington National Cathedral: The nation’s church is the sixth-largest cathedral in the world and the last Gothic cathedral ever built. Construction spanned almost a century (1907-1998), and was conducted medieval style, which means there were never more than 40 people working at a time.

Fly-Fishing South Carolina’s Kiawah Island


Fly-fishing South Carolina's Kiawah Island

December 10, 2018

As we round a grassy, flooded corner of Kiawah Island, moving slowly in Capt. John Irwin’s flats boat, all three of us onboard begin scanning the shoreline for fish. Irwin spots one first. “We’ve got a belly-crawler at 2 o’clock, about 20 feet in,” he announces. “You see him?”

Charleston-based angler/artist/musician Paul Puckett is standing on the bow, fly rod in hand. He sees the fish a split-second after Irwin does, and makes a perfect cast, landing the fly 6 inches in front of the feeder’s nose. It pounces without hesitation, coming clear out of the water to eat the fly and connect Puckett with 5 pounds of hard-fighting red drum, a.k.a. redfish, one of the most popular game fish in America.

As he’s bringing it to the boat, a man yells “Fore!” from an adjacent golf course, and I instinctively duck my head. Such are the risks of fishing in coastal South Carolina.

Kiawah is a barrier island along the South Carolina coast, sitting about 20 miles south of Charleston. It is known primarily as a golf destination—a fair assessment, considering that five acclaimed courses weave around the island’s 11 square miles, including the Pete Dye-designed Ocean Course, host of the 2012 PGA Championship. But many anglers have discovered that Kiawah and the surrounding area is also an exceptional fly-fishing destination, especially for tailing redfish found in the Spartina-grass salt marshes.


“The endless interconnected creeks and rivers here make it easy to forget that you’re fishing close to civilization,” says Puckett. “Even with some of the best shops and restaurants really close by, Kiawah’s not quite as developed as other towns, so whether you’re wading or in a boat, you feel like you’re on your own private island.”

Indeed, most of Kiawah is a private island. Charleston County Park & Recreation Commission, through a partnership with Kiawah Development Partners, offers a beautiful public beach on the west end of the island called Kiawah Beachwalker Park. But beyond that, Kiawah is essentially a gated community, albeit one with many rentable vacation properties, where it’s possible to find fish on foot or in a rental car without even leaving dry land.

“There are brackish ponds on Kiawah that hold lots of big redfish,” says local photographer Jason Stemple, who spent five years as the staff photographer for Kiawah Development Partners, exploring the island every day, including its creeks and marshes. “It’s pretty hit or miss. Sometimes you can pull up to a pond, hop out and see fish right away. Other times you can cast for hours and never see a thing. But each little creek is unique, and has the possibility of holding belly-crawling, shrimp- gobbling redfish.” (Kiawah also has a few freshwater-fed springs and ponds with good largemouth bass fishing, along with other fish that can survive in brackish water, like carp and tarpon.)

These belly-crawlers that both Stemple and Irwin refer to are redfish that have come into very shallow water at “flood tide” to feed, swimming half-exposed—sometimes even their eyeballs are above water—through stretches of Spartina grass that look like a flooded hayfield. A flood tide is the term for the highest high tides of each month. The food chain on these flooded flats goes something like this: flyfisher chasing redfish; redfish chasing blue crabs or fiddler crabs; crabs chasing the snails that cling to the stalks of grass. The result is a unique and challenging visual fishery for three or four days on both sides of a new or full moon. “Tailers” are redfish that are nose-down, eating in the mud or grass, with their tail sticking above the water, often wiggling from side to side.

“We usually get two sets of flood tides each month between
May and November, which keeps us pretty satisfied,” says Puckett. “There’s just something special about being able to see a fish before you catch it.” Stemple adds that shooting pictures of redfish during a flood tide offers the best opportunity to photograph them without a human involved. “It’s the only time they take a part of their body and place it in our world,” he says. “Flood-tide tailers give you the best chance, whether fishing or photographing, of stalking an individual fish in the most visual way possible.”

As great as flood tides are, they’re certainly not the only time to catch redfish. Nor are redfish the only quarry worth chasing around Kiawah Island. On two consecutive mornings fishing with Irwin and Stemple, a black drum at low tide was my first fish of the day. Black drum are a close cousin to red drum, but grow even larger, with a few recorded catches of more than 100 pounds. Mine were both about 4 pounds, and were just losing the vertical dark stripes they sport as juveniles— markings that sometimes cause them to be mistaken for another Lowcountry specimen, the sheepshead.

The state fish of South Carolina is the striped bass, but with stripers falling on hard times of late, visitors to Kiawah target everything from dorado to cobia to seatrout to sharks to amberjack to false albacore— even the occasional tarpon. We saw several fishermen targeting sharks close to shore, but offshore options are also available, especially during summer months, when bluewater captains use bigger boats to target species like wahoo, snapper, grouper, tuna, mackerel and billfish.

We caught redfish each day on both dropping and rising tides. Some were tailing in the shallowest water of a small bay, some were milling about near the mouths of creeks, waiting for the tide to rise, and a few bigger fish were found cruising alone or in pairs, looking for unsuspecting shrimp, crabs or glass minnows, or working the oyster beds, which they love. All of this was sight-fishing—the best kind of fly-fishing—and would not have been possible without clear water, which doesn’t always occur, especially in summertime. Nor is it possible without the eyes of a competent guide, which Irwin certainly is. It doesn’t hurt, either, that he grew up spending summers on Kiawah, or that his father still lives there, giving him easy access to boat ramps, as well as the occasional golf game.


“I spent seven years guiding for trout in southwest Montana,” Irwin says. “But I decided to return home in 2001, get my captain’s license and focus on the fish I grew up with. Plus, it’s warmer here.”

Trading south Montana for South Carolina also allows Irwin to
guide year-round—a huge bonus for a career that’s often seasonal. To accommodate both inshore and near shore clients, he has an 18-foot skiff for redfishing and other shallow-water endeavors, and a 23-foot V-hull boat for trips to the ocean side of the barrier islands, when chasing migrating fish like dorado (also called mahimahi or dolphinfish.)

Come fall, flood tides in South Carolina can last longer than in spring or summer, which keeps most fly-fishers targeting redfish. But as temperatures drop during winter, crabs start hibernating, causing fewer redfish to feed on the flats during high tides. While this reduces the number of tailing redfish, it causes them to school up into larger groups. Winter is when some of the biggest schools of reds can be found, sometimes along the beach, but also in the same marshes they occupy the rest of the year. It’s also when redfish will push into very skinny water to try to avoid dolphins (the mammal, not the dorado)—one of their major predators. If you’ve ever seen an Internet video showing dolphins “herding” redfish and mullet onto dry land, chances are it was filmed near Kiawah Island.

The climate of Kiawah makes redfishing a year-round sport, and with several guides offering early morning or late afternoon options to match the best fishing conditions, it’s possible to get in nine holes or a game of tennis and still have time for fishing the same day.
Three great fly shops in the area—Charleston Angler in Charleston, Lowcountry Fly Shop in Mount Pleasant and Bay Street Outfitters in Beaufort—all have knowledgeable staff that can outfit you or connect you with a guide. In addition to Irwin, Captain Mike Tucker lives and works on Kiawah, offering anglers both fly and light-tackle charters.

If you’re interested in lessons instead of, or in addition to,
a chartered trip, Bay Street Outfitters offers several one-day “Redfish Schools” throughout the year, focusing mostly on casting, knots and flies. Irwin teaches seminars as well, which are run through Charleston Angler. He also hosts several two- day redfish schools throughout the year, scheduling them to coincide with flood tides. “Having the two-day classes works best,” Irwin says, “because it allows people to screw everything up on the first day, and still redeem themselves on the second.” It also provides what all anglers want from every redfishing trip we take: one more day on the water.

This Beautiful Spanish Island is a Local Favorite


This Beautiful Spanish Island is a Local Favorite

November 12, 2018

The Mediterranean Sea does not want me to go swimming. Walking down a staircase carved out of a cliff, the waves below are undeniably angry. If the swells were smaller, I’m sure there’d be dozens of swimmers waiting to dive off these steps directly into the water. Instead, I have the cliff to myself. Waves crashing into them spray me, even though I’m standing 15 feet above. It’s magical, in
a mysterious, moody way.

Mallorca has hundreds and hundreds of miles of coastline. In the western Mediterranean, nestled off the east coast of Spain almost equidistant between Barcelona and the northern shore of Algeria, the island is famous for its beaches, aquamarine waters and sheltered harbors. It has more beaches than anyone seems to have been able to count—I ask around and get answers from “about 100” to the very specific “218.” There are white sand beaches, dramatic beaches perched beneath cliffs, beaches you can only get to by boat or by foot, long beaches, beaches at the end of dead-end roads, beaches where celebrities like Claudia Schiffer or Michael Douglas hang out (both own homes on the island) and secret, little-known beaches.

During my week on the island—my very first time there—I spend, in total, less than half-a-day on beaches. And I don’t care. By day three the island has so engaged me, I start to plan a return trip. At least I think it will be just a trip, but the locals warn me that it could turn into something else.

“Be careful,” says Rory Lafferty, founder of the Vespa rental company Bullimoto, in Sóller and Palma and formerly of Sussex, England. “We came here for my sister- in-law’s wedding, stayed for five days and decided to give up the UK and move here.”


That was in 2011. My tour guide around Palma, the southern city home to half of Mallorca’s population, had a similar story. Teresa Solivellas, who, with sister Maria runs Ca Na Toneta, a restaurant their parents opened 20 years ago in Caimari, an unassuming village on the southern slopes of the Serra de Tramuntana mountains says, “This is not the Caribbean. Mallorca has millennia of history shaped by its complex landscape.”

One of the 151 Balearic Islands—only five are inhabited—Mallorca is a geological, archaeological
and cultural playground. Bronze Age tribes lived here
and conducted primitive trade around the western Mediterranean. The island was under Phoenician and then Carthaginian rule in the 8th and 7th centuries B.C. For five centuries, the Romans, who founded the city that grew into Palma, ruled. Next came Vandals, then Byzantines and, at the end of the 8th century, Moors. In 1229 the Catalan King Jaume I conquered the island and gifted it to his youngest son as an independent kingdom. Independence lasted
only briefly. Within a century the island was forcibly re- incorporated into the Kingdom of Aragon and, in the 15th century, made part of Spain. Fast-forward 300 years to the 18th century: The island is still Spanish, but in constant fear of raids by North African pirates.

Mallorca’s is a knotty history, to say the least. Traveling the island—driving, biking or hiking—you see evidence of all of these cultures: Bronze Age rock temples, Phoenician citadels, well-laid Roman roads, graceful Arab arches
and the Gothic Le Seu cathedral in Palma, which took more than two centuries to construct and was finally consecrated in 1601.

“Our history is a crazy one and doesn’t always feel so much in the past,” says Pep Solivellas, cousin of Teresa and Maria and, with his father and brother, the maker of the olive oil, Oli Solivellas, served at Ca Na Toneta. “I think there are olive trees up in the mountains here from more than 2,000 years ago,” he says.

The oldest trees in Pep’s 21-acre Oli Solivellas grove
were planted in 1999 but the land has been in his family “since ancient times, I don’t even know how long,” he says. While we talk, we sit in his kitchen and he shows me how to smash a tomato onto a slice of fresh bread, sprinkle it with salt and drizzle it with olive oil for the ultimate local’s breakfast. The olive tree—gnarled and sculptural—that greets visitors to his farm is about 600 years old, but isn’t original to the property. “It was transplanted from the mountains,” Pep says. “All of the ancient olive trees you will see around the island—in Palma, on the plains, on golf courses—are originally from the mountains. People moved them down to be decorative. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Yes, but all of Mallorca’s landscape is beautiful.

On the flight into Palma, I pressed my face against the window. Below, the Mediterranean was dozens of different shades of azure. Sunlight glimmered off the tops of rolling waves and strips of sand of varying sizes popped into and out of view. Before I could even begin to count them, they, along with the sea, were gone. Snaggly, forested, wild mountains, the Serra de Tramuntana, replaced them.

As historic as they are rugged, the range is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Beneath my window it exploded, almost directly from the sea, up several thousand feet. 
No foothills temper this range as it runs for 50 miles
along the island’s northwest coast. And then, as quickly
as the Tramuntanas appeared, they were gone and we touched down in a flat plain dotted with windmills. If
sea, mountains and plains are not enough variety, the passenger next to me told me about Cuevas Drach, a series of underground caves with millions of stalactites and an underground lake on the island’s southern coast.

“Mallorca is its landscape and its landscape is a diverse mix,” Teresa says. “The mix explains us—our lifestyle, 
our gastronomy.” As eloquent and impassioned as Teresa’s words are, Maria wants to explain in greater detail. “You must eat,” she says. “I explain Mallorca with its flavors.” Okay!

Absolutely everything on Ca Na Toneta’s menu is
grown raised or caught locally. Pep makes the olive oil. 
His traditional Mallorcan oil is guaranteed through the Protected Designation of Origin “Oli de Mallorca” and sold in gourmet shops around the island and at the family farm. The sisters’ mother Catalina, the restaurant’s original chef, grows much of the produce in a garden a 5-minute drive from the restaurant. The menu changes weekly. “There
is no compromising on ingredients. Except for coffee, chocolate and sugar, its only Mallorca flavors,” Maria says.

Six courses—including cuttlefish and hake and rosemary, artichokes, unleavened bread made from grain endemic to the island and pork loin—and a bottle of wine later, I have 
a burgeoning idea of the island’s flavors, and full awareness that I’ve just had one of the best meals of my life. Maria’s food is rustically delicate. I’ve never before been a fan of cuttlefish—bitter and tough—but Maria slices it paper thin to add a lovely texture and saltiness to her fish soup with watercress. Dishes are beautiful, but not fussy. Flavors are simple, but strong. The first time I had a truly farm-fresh tomato, it was revelatory. Every dish at Ca Na Toneta is like that.

Leaving, I can’t help but wonder if the meal, and the restaurant, is a dream. There are certainly restaurants
that enjoy being off the beaten path, but the Solivellas sisters seem to actually be hiding. Caimari has a population of around 700. When I leave the restaurant, only a few streetlights illuminate the town’s cobblestone streets, which are so narrow I have to pull my car’s side mirrors in or risk scraping them on centuries-old buildings on either side of the road.

“It is not very touristic. It is not rich or fancy,” Teresa says of Caimari. “It is one of the places that is deep Mallorca.” If Caimari and Ca Na Toneta are deep Mallorca, I want more. I start by hiking up to the 2,800-some foot Coll de l’Ofre, in the Tramuntana Range at the back of the Biniaraix Gorge. “These mountains dominate our landscape and this area of them is the most special,” says the guide I consult at Hiking Mallorca.


Many villages tucked between the Tramuntana Range, “mountains of the north wind,” and the sea cascade down hillsides in a series of terraces ending just above precipitous drop offs. The range is the island’s heart and backbone but also a geologic noose, separating the towns and villages in the north from those in the south. Several peaks are more than 4,000 feet tall and often snow-covered in winter.

Until 1912, when the first safe route through the mountains was completed (it had 13 tunnels and took seven years to build), the north was more influenced by France than by the rest of Mallorca. France was easier
to get to than Palma. If you had to go to Palma, a boat was the safe option. There was an overland route, a narrow path up and over the Coll de Sóller, but at its best it was harrowing and at its worst, dangerous. A road elsewhere in the range built in 1932, Ruta de Sa Calobra, is, to this day, considered among the most dangerous drives in Spain. It is also considered one of the world’s great road bike rides, if you hit it when there’s little car traffic. Professional cyclists often train in Mallorca before
their race season starts in early spring. Sa Calobra’s eight miles—it dead-ends at the sea—include 50 curves and no tunnels. (The former allowed the latter.) One turn curves 270-degrees and then goes under itself. From top to bottom the elevation change is 2,200 feet. Thankfully my walk up to the Coll de l’Ofre is not dangerous, although the elevation gain is about the same as Sa Calobra.

Leaving Biniaraix, a French-feeling village above the bigger and even more French-influenced town of Sóller, the path is a tidy cobblestone with a border of boulders. 
The Hiking Mallorca guide says the uniqueness of the Biniaraix Gorge is how well-preserved its dry stone trail
is. This hike is only one part of the longer, multi-day Dry Stone Trail. Formally known as GR221, that trek is, without question, the island’s most famous long-distance walk. The Dry Stone Trail name comes from how the trail was constructed, without the use of mortar.

When the cobblestones start switch-backing to climb
up the gorge, stone stairs appear. You would think such
a well-constructed and orderly trail would make for comfortable hiking. My feet, in thin-soled running shoes and unaccustomed to walking on stones, no matter how smooth, disagree. The beginning of a blister festers on the ball of my right foot. I keep waiting for the stonework to end and the trail to turn to dirt. The effort behind building such a trail for any serious distance is unimaginable. But one mile and 600 vertical feet up the trail is still stone. Two miles and 1,500 feet and there’s no dirt yet in sight. When I begin to feel fatigued, I remind myself what I’m doing is nothing compared to the labor it took to make the trail. Dry stone is among the longest-lasting types of construction, but building it is backbreaking labor.

Dry stone structures—terraces, roads and fences in addition to trails—are visible throughout Mallorca’s mountainous northwest. Arabs are credited with introducing the agricultural technique of dry stone terracing to the island in the 10th century. The provenance of the Dry Stone Trail itself is murky, but most people agree it’s a route that has been used for centuries. I’ve only been hiking it for an hour, and it feels like centuries. This is only partly because of my sore feet. Mostly it’s because of Mallorca.

Nearly at the top, the breeze smells of rosemary and piñon and my only visible companions are wild goats scampering between exiguous holds on the craggy cliff walls on either side of the gorge. The nooks and crannies between the stones beneath my feet are full of fallen Mallorquina olives, ripened to a dark brown after they weren’t taken in the most recent harvest. Nowhere ahead or on any of the peaks that rise above is there any sign of modern civilization. I’ve hiked back in time. Or maybe I’ve just found one of the rare places in the world so connected to its landscape, time becomes irrelevant.

The World Hiding Beneath the Waves in Mexico’s Riviera Maya


The World Hiding Beneath the Waves in Mexico's Riviera Maya

November 9, 2018

“The caves are a gateway to the underworld,” says guide Pablo Salce Zambrano as our group of eight visitors prepares to descend into a series of caverns called Rio Secreto beneath the Riviera Maya on Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. “When you go down, you die,” he says, pausing, “and then you get reborn.”

The underworld was sacred to Mayas, a place of renewal used for rituals. Much of their fresh water came from underground rivers and cenotes, natural pools formed by the collapse of limestone bedrock, creating sinkholes that fill with water and become oases for swimming or snorkeling.

So what better way to go deep in the Riviera Maya than to die and be reborn in its caves and cenotes? My husband and I start at Rio Secreto, near Playa del Carmen about 50 miles south of Cancun. The guides are knowledgeable and eager to protect the underground caverns and the water that flows through them, asking all guests to shower off any sunscreen and hair products that could contaminate the Secret River. “Our job is to preserve this place,” Pablo says.

The caves were discovered about a decade ago on private land; at the time of our visit, more than 10 miles of caverns have been mapped. The Rio Secreto tour only covers about 700 yards, but sloshing and swimming through the water that goes from ankle-deep to chest-high makes it feel longer. We follow a rope line along waterways (and some dry sections) through caves illuminated by colorful lights. Rio Secreto is draped with so many natural wonders it almost seems like it was designed by Disney animators. It’s a full immersion into this limestone-rich region. Literally.


We get into wetsuits and life jackets, then put on helmets and headlamps and drop into a nondescript passage. At the entrance is a Mayan altar with candles and totems. The yellow beam of my headlamp illuminates the icicle-shaped stalactites hanging like daggers from the ceiling of the cavern as I wade into transparent blue-green water. The subsurface water found in caves, we learn, is especially clear because after filtering through the ground it’s mostly free of particulates. The water is “fresca no fria” Pablo says, then he quickly returns to English: “cool not cold.”

We learn to read the structures as we walk, wade and swim through the ancient spaces. Artful lighting—in bright blue, orange and red—highlights nature’s cathedral of stalactites and stalagmites. Pablo gives us a quick lesson about how the caverns, stalactites (which hang down) and stalagmites (mounds of mineral deposits that rise from the caverns’ floor) are formed. In brief, erosion of the relatively soft limestone creates the caverns: the ’tites and ’mites grow from thousands of years of drips, each one leaving infinitesimal amounts of minerals behind.

Overhead is a natural chandelier, white with age. A bat flits over my head, flying by an orange-tinged stalagmite. Blue reveals manganese in a stalactite group that looks like a flag sculpture. Some dripstones look like a wavy curtain, an indication that somehow a slight breeze had sneaked in, shaping the structures little by little.

When we reach a cavernous room, deep inside Rio Secreto, Pablo suggests we sit down in the water. He turns off the light—we find ourselves wrapped in silence and impenetrable darkness. But I’m not scared. As the first few minutes pass, I wonder what would happen if none of our headlamps come back on. Becoming a sacrifice to the Mayan gods crosses my mind, but calm and peace take over. “Leave your worries behind,” Pablo says. “The cave can hold them.”

As soon as Pablo turns his headlamp back on, we see a tiny moth flutter by—a sign that the outside world is near. We follow the rope line until the odorless cave gives way to the earthy scent of the living land. We see a speckle of light ahead and ascend, soon trampling over deadened leaves ground into dirt. The world seems greener, bluer and so much brighter, more vibrant.

Though I had moments of trepidation, I never felt the Rio Secreto tour was risky. Rather, I reveled in getting beneath the surface of the Yucatan Peninsula, revealing layers most visitors don’t see.

Beyond the wondrous caves are cenotes, natural pools formed by the collapse of limestone bedrock. In parts of the Yucatan, cenotes are linked by creeks; you can paddle a kayak from one to the next, then jump out and explore. No trip to the Yucatan is complete without a dip into the cool, cobalt-blue waters of a cenote.

Many Riviera Maya resorts, such as the Belmond Maroma Resort & Spa, about 30 miles south of Cancun, offer cenote tours where you can swim and snorkel your way from one limestone sinkhole to the next. But hotel tours aren’t the only way to see cenotes. If you have a rental car you can drive to places such as Cenote Dos Ojos, a pool ideal for scuba diving and snorkeling, but perhaps not the best choice for those who just want to swim.

My husband and I take a dip at Cenote Ik Kil, a sacred cenote in the interior of the Yucatan, about 3 miles from the Mayan ruins of Chichen Itza. From a height of about 85 feet above, I look down into the giant hole filled with crystalline water. Skeins of tree roots, vines, palm fronds and other lush vegetation tumble over the opening and straight into the cenote. These frame a waterfall. A shaft of sunlight makes the falling droplets dance and spotlights swimmers as they float among schools of fish. The sides of the cenote are sheer limestone walls that rise up and up. To get from our vista to the water, we first descend a grand stone spiral staircase then climb down a wooden ladder. Finally, we splash into the cenote. Bliss. Fed by crystal-clear, fresh water rivers, cenotes are simultaneously refreshing and bracing, the ultimate antidote to a hot day. I float under the waterfall and close my eyes. When I pop back up, fish dart below me. As
 I swim from one end of the 200-foot-wide pool to the other, it appears fathomless, but I know the bottom is 130 feet below.


Near Playa del Carmen, we bike to several different cenotes and snorkel and then paddle in one that flows
to the ocean. In the latter, the water is so clear that my shadow reflects on underwater rocks. We follow black- striped yellow fish down the current, floating past fallen trees, roots and algae, then kayak along the river as a family of coatis follows alongside on the branches of the mangroves. The coatis look like a cross between raccoons and anteaters. My amateur paddling startles a flock of white egrets, which fan out, only to circle back to their mangrove perches.

We can’t leave the Riviera Maya without touring the ruins at Tulum. The structures there may not be as majestic or historically important as those at Chichen Itza, but Tulum certainly has the better view. Perched on bluffs overlooking the coast, Tulum towers over an azure sea. A mostly flat trail traverses the compact compound, making it easy for families to walk among its various constructions. Prehistoric-looking iguanas patrol the ruins while adventurous swimmers bob in the choppy waters below.

Just south is the Sian Ka’an wetlands reserve, a UNESCO World Heritage site and, at 1.3 million acres, the largest protected area in the Mexican Caribbean. It offers numerous opportunities for going deep into the Mayan world. One is a snorkel tour of a colorful coral reef that’s home to dolphins and sea turtles.

Another is the Sian Ka’an and Muyil Tour, which follows a canal Mayas built over a thousand years ago. The excursion traverses the turquoise Chunyaxche waterway by boat with opportunities to explore the Xlahpak temple complex and climb El Castillo, a break from the below-the-surface explorations that offers a commanding view of the region.

Our week in the Riviera Maya ends in Tulum. On our final night we walk on the beach and notice that outside lights have been dimmed. The eco-conscious area wants to avoid confusing sea turtle hatchlings that rely on moonlight to find their way to the sea. Looking back on a week of adventures on the Yucatan’s east coast, perhaps the most memorable moment is when we emerge from the caves of Rio Secreto into the light of day. As Mayan legend predicts, rising from the depths gives us a sense of renewal. We surface from our all-too-brief time in the Riviera Maya rejuvenated and refreshed—and ready for whatever lies ahead.

Telluride’s Lesser Known Winter Activity Travelers Should Try


Telluride's Lesser Known Winter Activity Travelers Should Try

November 5, 2018

The hardest thing about catching a trout on Telluride’s most popular tailwater is learning how to pronounce its name: Pa-Co-Chu- Puk. This mile-and-a-half stretch of the Uncompahgre River flows from the bottom of Ridgeway Reservoir, keeping it a near constant 50 degrees and allowing for a year-round fishery. Pa-Co-Chu-Puk is a Ute Indian term—for either “water buffalo” or “cow creek,” depending on the source—and is pronounced “Pa-co-chew-puh.” But non-linguists needn’t fear, as locals long ago shortened the name of the tailwater to “Paco” and the river to “Unc.”

The Uncompahgre is one of the “big four” fly-fishing rivers near Telluride, the other three being the San Miguel, the Dolores and the Gunnison. The Paco tailwater on the Unc is about an hour away from Telluride, located inside Ridgeway State Park. It’s the closest year- round fishable water from town, and offers a more intimate walk- and-wade experience than the other year-round fishery—the lower Gunnison, which is mostly fished from a drift boat. For such a short, shallow section of river, Paco holds some surprisingly large rainbows and browns, with four-pounders not uncommon.

Since both the Gunny and the Unc are typically fishable throughout the winter, they are favorites of many skiers/flyfishers looking to squeeze a day of fishing into their ski vacation (or vice versa). “Mid- March is tough to beat for both fishing and skiing in Telluride, because there’s usually the greatest amount of snow on the mountain and the least amount of snow along the river,” says 23-year veteran Telluride fly-fishing guide Frank Smethurst. “You can try to do both in a day—and many do—but the fishing is often best right about when the corn snow is peaking, so it’s usually better to just rest your ski legs and focus on fishing for a full day.”


Regardless of the season, Smethurst’s ski-or-fish dilemma highlights another challenge of chasing trout in Telluride: choosing fly-fishing over the many other world-class activities waiting out your front door. When summer rolls around, even the most hardcore flyfishers must admit that the alternative activities in Telluride—from music festivals to mountain biking to backpacking—rival those of any mountain town on Earth. And I hate to disappoint you indecisive types, but even after settling on fly-fishing for the day’s activity, your options are far from limited.

For those wanting a natural, free-flowing fishing experience, the
two most popular freestone rivers are the San Miguel and the upper Dolores. (“Freestone” is an undammed river; “tailwater” is a section of river flowing below a dam.) The San Miguel is definitely Telluride’s local river, starting high above town in the San Juan Mountains and flowing northwest through town and along the valley below, toward Placerville. The South Fork of the San Miguel, a great fishery in its own right, joins the main branch just outside of town. About five miles up the South Fork from the confluence, the Nature Conservancy has a 67-acre preserve, where catch-and-release fishing is allowed.

The upper river can be covered with snow for much of the winter, but the San Miguel River usually offers Telluride anglers their first freestone fly-fishing of the season. “March
is my favorite time of year to fish it,” says John Duncan, co-owner and general manager of Telluride Outside, a local fly-fishing guide service since 1984. “I love the process of inspecting the San Miguel when the ice starts melting away, it makes me feel like I’m searching a new river each season.”

Smethurst also likes late-winter fishing near Telluride, but for different reasons. “The best thing about it is spending time in the high desert,” he says. “Many people don’t even realize that Colorado has a desert, and it’s a 20-minute drive west from downtown Telluride. I think the best two rivers for winter fishing are the Unc and the lower Gunnison, where you’re fishing a few thousand feet lower than the elevation in Telluride, which is 8,750. So it’s usually much warmer than town, and there are big fish to be had.”

The “Lower Gunny” is basically anything below the bottom of Gunnison Gorge, but usually refers to the section from the Gunnison Forks—near the Gunnison River Pleasure Park—down to the Austin Bridge, a float of about 5 miles. This is the stretch that is most often floated during winter—an area Duncan describes as “the stark and stunning landscape of high-desert canyon country.” When summer rolls around, the Gunnison has several other float or hike-in sections, including Almont to the town of Gunnison, Gunnison to Blue Mesa Reservoir, Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park and Gunnison Gorge, just below the National Park.

If you’ve got a car in Telluride, and are looking for a good one- day road trip, Colorado State Highway 145 (CO-145) is one of the country’s best state highways for fishing. The 116-mile- long roadway follows the San Miguel River northwest from Telluride for 50 miles, and follows the Dolores River southwest from Lizard Head Pass for 45 miles. There are
a few bits of private land along both rivers, but most of it is public and remote, making it easy to lose the crowds. “There are few fly-fishing destinations with the amount of public access that we have here,” says Duncan. “Most anglers are accustomed to fishing around other people, but we are spoiled by solitude in Telluride. Any extra effort—a short hike, a four- wheel-drive road or even just the creative use of a map—will probably result in all-day solitude.”

Besides solitude, another thing the San Miguel, Uncompahgre and upper Dolores have in common is a fairly reliable mayfly hatch—the Pale Morning Dun in early July. Though caddisflies come first, they often show up during runoff, when the San Miguel and Dolores are too dirty to fish. The San Miguel is a nymphing river in February and March (the “window” before runoff), but despite a lack of prolific surface hatches, trout will still key on dry flies. Best bet is to fish a dry fly with a nymph dropper, so you’re covering both zones. And if we’re discussing hatches in this part of Colorado, then—sorry, PMDs and caddisflies—but you play second fiddle to the famous salmonflies of the Gunnison.

The salmonfly is one of the country’s most famous hatches, and the Gunnison has some of the country’s most famous salmonflies. It’s always in the conversation with other top salmonfly rivers like Oregon’s Deschutes or Montana’s Madison, Yellowstone or Big Hole. If you’re in good physical shape, hiking down to the river in Black Canyon National Park is a rewarding experience. It’s also a lot of work, and if you go during the June salmonfly hatch, you won’t be alone on the trail. Fishing during the emergence of these 2- to 3-inch-long bugs is considered a rite of passage for many flyfishers, so the salmonfly event can sometimes draw a crowd. Another option is to fish the Gunny later in the summer, after the salmonflies have gone but while grasshoppers are still around.


I was fortunate to join a private group from Telluride a few years back on a three-day August float down Gunny Gorge. It turned out to be perfect time to do it, especially if you’re more into the fishing and less into the big-water rafting of spring. (Don’t wait until too late in the summer, though, because passage gets pretty tight in the narrow part of the gorge when flows drop below 1,000 cubic feet per second.)

As for the classic, sometimes-technical tailwater experience near Telluride—
the lower Dolores River below McPhee Reservoir—anglers must understand that this special section of river is not “on the way” to anywhere. But neither is Telluride, so if you’ve made it that far, what’s a day trip to the Dolores? (The drive is a little more than 60 miles from Telluride, so a bit farther than going to Pa-Co-Chu-Puk. But don’t be afraid to stop along the way for photos at Trout Lake, or for fishing at Snowspur Creek or Lizard Head Creek.)

Duncan’s favorite time on the Dolores tailwater is early summer. “There’s no other river in my experience that comes to life quite like the Dolores,” he says. “You’ll be blown away by the number and variety of hatching bugs. And there are so many shades of green, it confuses the eye.” Duncan adds that high water on the Dolores recedes a couple weeks earlier than on the San Miguel, so it’s the first river they fish after runoff.

And finally, while tailwaters are sometimes the only fishing available during winter, it’s the free-flowing rivers that many of us desire. “Our local fishing is more focused on freestone streams than tailwaters,” Duncan says. “The San Miguel and upper Dolores are not trophy fisheries like the Frying pan, Yampa or Platte, but they run wild and free, and fishing these rivers re-immerses anglers in the natural variables of a trout stream, things like flow, temperature and clarity. I think many flyfishers feel a reawakening of their fishing senses on these streams.”

Road Trip from San Francisco to San Diego


Road Trip from San Francisco to San Diego

September 24, 2018

Highway 1 along the West Coast of North America has long captivated travelers, from the Spanish missionaries of 400 years ago to today’s road-trippers. Follow along as we journey between San Francisco and San Diego, with stops at Inspirato destinations that elevate the road trip to luxurious getaway.

Sonoma County

Stay at the Wheelman House in Healdsburg. A suite at the Wheelman puts you a block away from downtown’s cluster of dining, wineries, galleries, and shopping. The hotel’s distinctive arched bedrooms lined with wood are meant to evoke the inside of a wine barrel.


Take the time to enjoy the wine at any number of wineries nearby, or just stroll over to a tasting room in Healdsburg. Williamson Wines (home to gold-medal Chardonnays) is just one of the more than 15 wineries with tasting rooms located within walking distance of each other. Explore the wine country with a stop at the historic Scribe Winery, led by fourth generation farmers and brothers, Andrew and Adam Mariani. No visit to Sonoma can go without a trip up to Repris wines’ exclusive Moon Mountain vineyard. 

Epicures or wannabe epicures must make a pilgrimage to Healdsburg SHED, a modern-day grange and farm where the valley’s foods and wines are celebrated through cooking classes, markets, and a café and bar. For a taste of the best of Sonoma, reserve a table at Barndiva, an unpretentious dining spot where hyper-fresh, local ingredients are the star attraction. The menu may look simple, but the tastes are decidedly not.

San Francisco

Stay at the Fairmont San Francisco. Your suite at the legendary Fairmont plants you in the middle of it all, blocks away from San Francisco’s high-end shopping and dining and concert halls and a short ride (via historic cable car, if you’d like) to the waterfront. Bonus: You can channel San Francisco history at the hotel’s famous tiki bar.

Head to the farmers market at the Ferry Building Marketplace for a look at the produce and provisions that will turn into dinners at some of the city’s best restaurants. Not there on market day? No problem, the building houses a variety of savory specialty shops. For a hands-on, deep-dive into the science of creativity, explore the Exploratorium, a one-of-a-kind science and art museum at Pier 15 on the waterfront that’s beloved by generations of locals.

Fine art lovers should hit the de Young, a museum renowned for its collection of American art and photography. Bonus: A visit takes you to Golden Gate Park where you can stroll through rose gardens and enjoy the city at play.

Carmel Valley

Stay at the Bernardus Lodge & Spa. Tucked in the magical Carmel Valley where the days are fog-free and warm, but the nights are cool, a cottage at the Bernardus features a working fireplace, patio, and a complimentary wine bar in the room.

Explore the highlights of the California Coast all in one place at Point Lobos State Natural Reserve where a network of trails leads to tidepools teeming with marine life and dramatic oceanside cliffs surrounding hidden beaches. With hundreds of art galleries located in Carmel-by-the-Sea there’s sure to be one that appeals to every aesthetic. The village rolls down to the beach, considered one of the best in the country thanks to its soft white sand that, incidentally, is ideal sand castle material. Besides art and the sea, the Monterey Peninsula is famous for golf. Including the links at Pebble Beach and the greens at Quail Lodge, golfers can tee off on 20 championship courses in the area.

Santa Barbara

Stay at the Belmond El Encanto. Perched above the Mediterranean-flavored city of Santa Barbara, the Belmond and its spa invite you to unwind after traveling down Hwy. 1 from Carmel. After freshening up, you can leave the car parked and take one of the hotel’s electric bikes downtown for dinner or a cruise along the beachside path.

The city’s Funk Zone puts some of the state’s best contemporary artists, breweries, and wineries all in one spot, conveniently located between the beach and the highway. Start the city’s Urban Wine Trail in the Funk Zone and follow it up to the whitewashed, tile-roofed historic Presidio neighborhood, home to the second- oldest building in California. All told, there are more than 20 wineries on the tour.

On your way south out of town, hop a boat out of Ventura to the wilds of Channel Islands National Park. Along the way, you may see dolphins, and even whales. Once on the islands, an abundance of seals, birds, and untrampled flora reveal a land untouched by humans.

Dana Point

Stay at the Monarch Beach Resort. This sprawling golf and beach resort climbs from the ocean into the coastal hills. Here, being active is the name of the game with a challenging golf course, tennis club, and multiple pools available to guests. And, of course, there’s the beach club.

Monarch Beach Resort
Try surfing or paddle boarding on the swells that break just off shore of the Monarch Beach Resort with help from one of the resort’s Surf Hosts, who will provide you with a board and private instruction. Want to go deeper? Schedule a SCUBA excursion to the underwater park just off Crystal Cove State Park, where you can swim through towering forests of kelp, keeping your eyes peeled for sea life, including lobsters.
You can also get your marine fix at the Pacific Marine Mammal Center up the road in Laguna Beach. There you can check out the center’s rehab work on sea lions, seals, and other rescued marine life.

Los Angeles

Stay at the London West Hollywood. Immerse yourself in Hollywood glitz and glamour at the boutique London West Hollywood, home to the city’s largest rooftop pool deck overlooking the sights. But best of all is the London’s location, minutes from the heart of Beverly Hills and Hollywood.

Go shopping. You can choose from the chic glamour of Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, the hip and influential boutiques along Melrose Avenue, or the beach-inspired collections found along Abbot Kinney Blvd. in Venice. See a show at the Hollywood Bowl, an historic outdoor concert venue that’s hosted the world’s greatest entertainers, from The Beatles to the Los Angeles Philharmonic. To hear the next big thing, head one block north to the Sunset Strip, home to multiple music clubs. 

Or for something completely different, check out a live show or movie at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, a green oasis in the middle of Hollywood (and a real cemetery). The Los Angeles County Museum of Art is renowned for its collection of art. A must-see after dark is the Urban Light, an installation of 202 street lamps located at the entrance to the museum.

San Diego

Stay at The Lodge at Torrey Pines. Thanks to its PGA ProTour golf course and access to the beach, The Lodge, with its Craftsman-inspired architecture and décor, is California at its best. Tee off on the famed golf course or enjoy the day in the surf (the water’s warmer here), or explore the boutiques and eateries that populate the quaint beach towns north of the lodge along Hwy 1.

Reserve a seaside table at George’s at the Cove, a La Jolla institution renowned for its California cuisine. If the weather’s fair, you can dine atop its open-air terrace. From your perch atop George’s, you look down on the La Jolla Ecological Reserve and the La Jolla Sea Caves, natural wonders that can be explored by water, kayak, or from the beach. Take off from Torrey Pines Gliderport in a tandem paraglider and soar over the La Jolla coast, riding the stiff onshore breeze up and down the shore.

Other Adventures From San Francisco


Stay at the Fairmont Pacific Rim, pictured below. On the waterfront, near Stanley Park, the Fairmont’s location in the heart of downtown means easy access to the city’s best dining and attractions and a peaceful escape from the bustle.

Fairmont Pacific Rim

Take a day trip to Whistler and ride the PEAK 2 PEAK gondola strung between the tops of Whistler and Blackcomb mountains. At its highest, the 2.75-mile ride puts travelers 1,427 feet off the valley floor. Inside Stanley Park, you’ll find the Vancouver Aquarium, Canada’s largest and home to 50,000 sea creatures. Sample the region’s bounty at ORU, located in the Fairmont Pacific Rim, where executive chef Nathan Brown prepares a seasonally appropriate prix fixe menu for both lunch and dinner.


Stay at the Thompson Seattle. With Puget Sound views from most rooms and Nest, one of the hippest after-work rooftop bars in the city, the Thompson brings the best of Seattle to you.

Walk down the block to Pike Place Market. Yes it’s crowded and the birthplace of Starbucks, but during the summer harvest, some of the best produce you’ll ever taste is on sale. Pop music and culture fans must make a pilgrimage to the otherworldly building that houses the MoPOP (formerly the EMP Museum), where they can immerse themselves in all things music, science fiction, cartoons, and other pop-culture movements.

Most great cities have a central park where the city recreates and gathers. In water-centric Seattle, that destination is Lake Union, where kayakers, rowers, windsurfers, sailors, boaters, paddle boarders, and even seaplanes turn the water into a city park.


Stay at the Riverplace Hotel. You’ll understand why Portland is known as a city of bridges from your room at the Riverplace, located on the Willamette River right downtown. The Portland’s attractions are all a short bike ride away using the hotel’s free bikes and the city’s famous bike lanes.

Take a bike ride along the waterfront to the city’s trendy Pearl District, home to quaint boutiques and cafés, including the city’s beloved Stumptown coffee. Craft cocktails are a religion in Portland, and you can taste why at the Teardrop Cocktail Lounge.

A mere 60 miles east, Mt. Hood towers over Portland. It also makes for a lovely drive, climbing from the river valley to Timberline Lodge, where you’re rewarded with a view that stretches for hundreds of miles in every direction, and if you want, the option to ski a glacier in the middle of summer.

This Luxury Hotel is a Quiet Escape in the Heart of New York City

Hotel Central Park Hero

This Luxury Hotel is a Quiet Escape in the Heart of New York City

September 20, 2018

New York, New York—the city so nice, they named it twice. Travelers come from near and far to experience what’s been called the greatest city in the world. With so much tourism over the years, New York has had the opportunity to master the art of accommodations, and one luxury hotel near Central Park stands out among the rest.

1 Hotel Central Park is ideal for foodies, couples and urban explorers, and it’s centrally located near the park, Columbus Circle and Fifth Avenue Shopping. And with 229 rooms and suites, there are plenty of opportunities to stay.

1 Hotel Central Park Exterior

The exterior of 1 Hotel Central Park, an urban escape with a natural feel.

1 Hotel Central Park Room 1610

Only steps away from Central Park, this luxury hotel is a refuge in the middle of Manhattan.

Lobby at 1 Hotel Central Park

Guests are welcomed by living green plants from the moment they step into the lobby.

1 Hotel Central Park NYC

Rooms are embellished with reclaimed materials like wood, bricks, and recycled leather.

1 Hotel Central Park Room 1710

Nature is brought into every room with treetop views, plants, and custom organic bedding.

1 Hotel Central Park Master Bedroom Room 1710

Warm natural touches and cozy additions encourage ultimate relaxation in the heart of the city.

Jams at 1 Hotel Central Park (1)

Farm-to-fork dining by Chef Jonathan Waxman can be enjoyed at the ground level restaurant Jams.

1 Hotel Central Park Room 1710

Open layouts and a modern design make each suite a one-of-a-kind experience.

Park Suite - Living Area - View 2

The hotel's Park Suite offers unbeatable views and a window-nook daybed.

Lobby Area at 1 Hotel Central Park

The reclaimed woods used to decorate come from the city's old water towers or barns upstate.

2nd Floor Meeting Space at 1 Hotel Central Park

Unique event spaces at 1 Hotel Central Park are perfect for business meetings and weddings.

This quiet escape in the heart of New York City truly captures the magic of Central Park. In the city that never sleeps, 1 Hotel Central Park provides guests with tranquil surroundings, tons of greenery, and furnishings made with natural materials. Each room and suite is decorated in neutral tones (see photo below) to encourage a feeling of calm and cozy modern furniture for lounging so guests can enjoy the most relaxing stay possible.

Wood, bricks, and leather have been sourced locally in this eco-friendly hotel, so native charm is abundant in its high-end décor. But the rarest feature 1 Hotel Central Park has to offer is the oversized bay windows perfect for soaking in park views and the city landscape. 

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All of the food offered at the hotel comes from acclaimed chef Jonathan Waxman who was awarded “Best Chef in New York City” by the James Beard Foundation. This farm-to-fork dining experience is one-of-a-kind in New York City as Chef Jonathan innovatively brings the California cuisine movement to the east coast. The ground level restaurant, Jams, provides a modern atmosphere and handcrafted meals for foodies and weary travelers alike.

The hotel’s location is ideal for explorers and tourists as it’s a block away from Central Park and only steps from some of the best entertainment and shopping in the world. But if guests prefer to spend more time in their room, they won’t be missing out since the rooms and suites have unique layouts optimal for soaking in the modern luxury of the city from the comfort of a hotel room, as pictured below.

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This eco-friendly haven in the heart of the city will charm travelers from around the world with its rustic-chic style and furnishings. And with a bar and lounge, spacious suites, award-winning cuisine, and a fully equipped 24-hour fitness center, 1 Hotel Central Park has everything you need to enjoy your experience. Who knew such a stay existed in New York, the city so nice they named it twice?

So the next time you’re heading to NYC, be sure to check out the luxury accommodations of 1 Hotel Central Park. The hotel you choose can make or break your experience of the greatest city in the world, so don’t take any chances. This luxury hotel truly is a quiet escape in the heart of the city.

Palmetto Bluff Offers the Best of Summer Camp in Lowcountry


Palmetto Bluff Offers Travelers the Best of Summer Camp in Lowcountry

September 12, 2018

I fell hard for Savannah, Georgia. Each cobblestone street—their century-old pattern of red bricks no longer so flat now—is more enchanting than the last. Because Savannah’s is the largest National Historic Landmark District in the country, there are nearly endless opportunities to be enchanted, whether by streets lined with crenellated, well-kept homes, or public squares, including a couple made famous in movies (Chippewa Square is the one in Forrest Gump). Over these manmade charms stretch thick, impossibly gnarled branches of live oaks fuzzy with resurrection ferns and draped in Spanish moss. Only rarely have I felt such a solid sense of place. There’s only one problem: Savannah isn’t the purpose of my trip. I’m in the city only for two days. It’s just the jumping-off point for a visit to Palmetto Bluff, among the southernmost areas in South Carolina’s famous Lowcountry.

I’ve never before been to Lowcountry so I have no idea what to expect, although I leave Savannah sure there is no way it can compare. Because of this prejudgment, just before I leave the city (and right after I discover Savannah College of Art and Design’s ShopSCAD gallery, full of both cute and cutting-edge art and design), I come up with a plan for my four days in Palmetto Bluff: I’ll drive back to Savannah each morning and spend the day exploring the city more deeply (and eating full meals at restaurants I visited on a short food tour).


But I drop that plan an hour after my arrival at Palmetto Bluff. As hard as I fell for Savannah, I fall harder here. Savannah has a palpable sense of place, but the Lowcountry and Palmetto Bluff have magic. Not once in my entire stay do I get in my car. I barely remember there’s a world outside of Palmetto Bluff.

I had expected Palmetto Bluff to be beautiful, but, well, perhaps boring. It is a 20,000-acre planned community, after all, even if its planning is absolutely perfect. But here everyone rides beach cruisers everywhere—to play croquet or bocce or to the equestrian center or yoga. Men in sport coats and pressed chinos and women in casual skirts and ballet flats bike to dinner. Hammocks hang beneath wizened live oaks, some older than the United States. There are adult-sized tree houses. At night, twinkling, white lights illuminate the east side of Village Square, the heart of Palmetto Bluff ’s main village, Wilson. One evening biking home from dinner, I pass an older couple dancing under these lights to music only they can hear. Every evening from 7 to 9, s’mores are served around a giant outdoor fire pit a few paces from the May River. This is summer camp, graciously done for adults (although kids are welcome and there are art activities and sports for them).

There is no landscape like the Lowcountry’s. Stretching roughly from Charleston more than 100 miles south to the Savannah River, it is a wild labyrinth of rivers, islands, maritime forests, wetlands, savannas, and marshes. A bald eagle, heron, or ibis might circle overhead while a gopher turtle, or, yes, an alligator, swims below. There are orchids, cypress, sycamore, magnolia, and flowering dogwood. Here “porching” is a verb and a perfectly respectable way to spend an afternoon, provided it’s done while sipping sweet tea or some other refreshing libation.

Looking for somewhere to stay in Palmetto Bluff? Click here for your most luxurious options.

The area’s magic isn’t in these facts, but in how the Lowcountry inspires me to appreciate these things. I spend several happy afternoons porching, which my type-A personality could never enjoy in real life. In Palmetto Bluff I porch on the screened-in veranda overlooking a lagoon off the back of a traditional clapboard cottage. I read, write in my journal, and one afternoon, just sit and feel my skin gratefully soak up the humidity. Always I listen to a soundtrack of a crickets.

I can porch because from the time I arrive at camp, er, Palmetto Bluff, until I leave, I feel I’m on hallowed ground, where I am protected and safe and where nothing bad can happen to me. I relax more deeply than I ever have in my adult life. I sleep better than I have in years. My brain slows down. Not that this was part of my plan, but every day I go all day without checking my phone or email. For whatever reason, it feels like the right thing to do. Life doesn’t go away, but since the worries of it do, I porch.

I also go on a couple of sunrise runs. Some along paved trails; others on paths made of crushed oyster shells or packed sand. I pass forested nature preserves and ponds. Running home the first morning, I meet a family of deer, resting just off the trail in thick beds of fallen sycamore leaves. Running my last morning, I spot a moving alligator in the middle of the lagoon. To get better photos of it I walk past a “Do not feed the alligators” sign and to the end of a pier. During the five minutes I watch the creature, never once does it look in my direction or come closer. Later, looking at the photos I took, it looks like a log.

As much as I enjoy my runs, it is my sunrise and sunset walks that I enjoy most. This is surprising because I am not a walker. Again, though, walking—slowing down—feels like the right thing to do. One evening, I walk farther than expected and arrive at a tree house on the bank of Cauley’s Creek just before sunset. I climb four stories to the highest floor and am above the top of the forest’s thick canopy. Below, anglers make their last casts of the day and an egret wades in the thick cattails at the creek’s edge. The oranges and pinks so suck me in, I forget about having to walk back. But even if I were to remember, I don’t know how I could leave the sunset early, each one while I’m here is a show worthy of watching to the very end.

I rely on Palmetto Bluff ’s magic to save me from walking home by myself in the dark. And by “magic,” I mean a staff member gives me a ride home in a golf cart.

Early afternoons not spent reading or napping in a hammock are for tennis lessons at Wilson Lawn & Racquet, where I twice hit with tennis pro Natalie. A former college player, she quickly figures out I like low forehands with plenty of pace. Returning ball after ball low and fast, Natalie makes me feel like a tennis star. In addition to its eight Har-Tru tennis courts, the racquet club has two croquet lawns and two bocce courts, but I never see anyone playing either.

If I were here longer, I’d go to the Palmetto Bluff Shooting Club, where 13 sporting clays stations wind through a 40-acre forest. Although it does make me a bit nervous, the shooting club welcomes “all ages and all shooting abilities.” I’d also get over my fear of horses and spend a day taking a riding lesson at Longfield Stables, Palmetto Bluff ’s 173-acre farm and equestrian facility. It has always been a dream to ride a horse at a full gallop, and I do have a feeling there are few places safer than here to start my career as an equestrienne. Perhaps on my next trip.

While horses scare me, the presence of alligators in Palmetto Bluff ’s ponds and rivers does not, at least when it comes to kayaking and stand-up paddleboarding. This is because of a Palmetto Bluff Conservancy brochure given to me at check-in, “A Guide to Living With Alligators.” The front flap has a photo of two gators lazily sunning themselves while a heron nonchalantly wades in the shallows behind. Having never before lived around— or even seen in the wild—an alligator, I’m glad for this guide. It states “Humans are not natural prey for alligators” and “An alligator will not intentionally approach a canoe or kayak.”

It is a SUPing adventure—no alligators involved—that keeps me from the last Savannah activity I think I might still do. The night before my departure, feeling I have soaked up enough Lowcountry magic, I make a reservation for early the next afternoon, for a historic architecture walking tour of downtown. I’ll do the tour and then head for the airport. But at the end of my sunrise walk that last morning, I swear I see “SUP” written in the reflection on the clouds on the May River. (Or maybe I’m seeing what I want to see?) This cloud writing is a different kind of magic than the Ouija boards that were the rage my last time at summer camp, but still I pay attention.


Out on the May River on a rented paddleboard, I feel the tide coming in. There aren’t waves, but there’s a gentle push upstream and when I turn the board around and take a few paddles downstream towards Savannah, slight resistance. Not that I need the tide to confirm my decision—I have no regrets over not going back to Savannah—but I appreciate nature’s affirmation nonetheless.

While I note the tide, it doesn’t really matter because my goal is not to paddle, but to porch. When Karen at the Boathouse Boutique explained porching to me my first day in Palmetto Bluff, I asked her many questions. I had not yet had the idea to sit down on a SUP in the May River, sip from a bottle of sweet tea, and watch the world float by—that only came after I saw the writing in the clouds—but still I asked Karen whether an actual porch was needed to porch. Could you porch on a pier? Could you porch in a hammock? How about a tree swing? A bench along the river? After considering my question for some seconds—this obviously wasn’t something to answer flippantly—she replied that it wasn’t the porch that was important, but the pace. “Porching is about slowing down and being in the moment.”

I might be a porching newbie, but straddling my board, looking back at shore to anglers getting ready to go out for the day, couples pedaling along the waterfront, and a brother and sister skipping stones from the end of a pier, I can’t help but think I nailed it.